


Reunion

by Ginipig



Series: Cullistair One-Shots [13]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: King Alistair (Dragon Age), M/M, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22307200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ginipig/pseuds/Ginipig
Summary: Cullen hasn't seen Alistair in over a year. A lot can happen in that time.Written for anon Tumblr prompt:"So I was thinking...how do you think Cullen would react to bearded Alistair? The thought has been running thru my mind for the past couple of hours.🤣"
Relationships: Alistair/Cullen Rutherford, cullistair - Relationship
Series: Cullistair One-Shots [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604995
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Reunion

Since Cullen had entered Denerim he’d been having difficulty focusing on anything other than Alistair. They hadn’t seen each other in nearly a year, since Alistair had visited Skyhold as King of Ferelden. Much had happened during that time, including the defeat of Corypheus at the hand of the Inquisitor.

In truth, Alistair had requested Josephine’s presence at the palace to discuss the role of the Inquisition now that the Breach had been closed. But as the Inquisitor was currently in the Deep Roads searching for the cause of (and hopefully, solution to) the worsening earthquakes on the Storm Coast, and even better, Josephine had been summoned to Orlais for similar discussions, Leliana and Josephine had agreed that Skyhold could operate without Cullen for a few months.

The worst part had been keeping the secret from Alistair. It had been Cullen’s idea to surprise him, and Josephine eagerly acquiesced, repeatedly gushing over “the romance” of such a gesture. Since she’d assured Alistair that first, she was required in Orlais — which as he knew, she wrote, required a special diplomatic touch — and second, the diplomat she was sending in her place was “a Fereldan of our very own,” Alistair had declared his understanding and assured her that he took no offense. “Better you than me,” had been his rather unkingly, if characteristic, response.

However, because Cullen was supposed to be at Skyhold, he’d had to fudge some details about his own work and who this Fereldan diplomat was, as Josephine had not named her replacement in her letters to Alistair. As far as Alistair knew, Cullen had never met this person, since they were away from Skyhold when dispatched to Denerim. Emilia, one of Josephine’s people who had been sent to accompany him — to be responsible for, as both Josephine and Leliana insisted on reminding him, “the actual diplomatic work” which was the purpose of the visit — kept Alistair informed of their journey, and she was coy enough not to name this mystery diplomat in her letters. Much to Cullen’s surprise, Alistair was polite enough not to outright ask, lest he look ill-informed.

Cullen had even had to backdate his own letters to Alistair, as the time to reach him grew shorter the farther they travelled into Ferelden. He despised misleading Alistair so, but told himself again and again that it would all be worth it in the end.

Now that the surprise he had been anticipating for months was nearly upon him, though, Cullen found himself wracked with anxiety. What if Alistair was too busy with his royal duties to spend time with him, not having planned for the visit? What if their reunion didn’t go as Cullen hoped it would? What if this had, in fact, been a terrible idea, and Alistair was angry with him for withholding the truth?

What if every one of those things occurred?

“Commander.” Emilia pulled her horse up alongside his own. “You’re doing it again.”

Cullen let out a long breath and consciously unclenched his jaw and lowered his shoulders. “Yes, thank you, Emilia.”

“I assure you, everything will go well. It is no secret that the king adores you.”

Cullen felt his cheeks burn and cleared his throat. “Uh, yes. Thank you, Emilia.”

He saw her smile in his peripheral vision, and he tried not to be annoyed. She was only trying to help.

An hour later, Cullen and his small party (consisting of himself, Emilia, and three of his soldiers he’d personally hand-picked) were led into the stables.

Fortunately, they had been expected and Emilia had requested they enter to no fanfare, so their welcoming party consisted of a few royal guards and the royal stable master.

Unfortunately, every one of them recognized him.

Emilia diplomatically explained that Cullen was planning to surprise the king, and requested he be led directly to the king’s study without the normal reception in the throne room. The stable master and guards readily agreed to maintain secrecy, and though Cullen focused his attention on removing his saddlebags to hide his now-crimson cheeks (and neck, and ears), he could not ignore the excitement that Alistair’s people seemed to feel on their king’s behalf.

“Indeed, Commander.” The stable master, a kind man who reminded Cullen of Dennet (and not just due to their shared profession) appeared at his side, startling him. “His Majesty will be overjoyed at your arrival. These past few months he has seemed particularly melancholy.”

The thought made his heart ache, but Cullen would be lying if he didn’t admit that he had felt the same until he (with Leliana and Josephine’s assistance) had hatched this plan.

He and Emilia were escorted into the palace, where they were met by Royal Chancellor Elizabeth Loveall.

She, as had the others, grinned at Cullen. How everyone recognized him, he wasn’t sure. He’d not visited the palace since he and Alistair had become intimate.

Nevertheless, Emilia once again explained the situation before asking to be escorted to her own room. Chancellor Loveall then led Cullen through the halls to the king’s office.

She knocked on a rather large door, and for the first time in nearly a year, Cullen heard Alistair’s voice.

“Enter.”

It was all business and far too tense, but there was no doubt it was his Alistair.

Chancellor Loveall smirked, held up a finger to Cullen, and opened the door just enough to slip through. She left it cracked behind her.

“Your Majesty, the Inquisition’s diplomat has arrived.”

Alistair groaned. “Great. Give me ten minutes to get into my fancy clothes, and then —”

“Actually, Ambassador Montilyet’s clerk Emilia, who I believe you have been corresponding with, requested that the diplomat be allowed to meet you here, in your study.”

“Oh.” Cullen could picture Alistair blinking in surprise, and he smiled as his stomach fluttered. “Maybe Josephine sending a Fereldan will turn out to be a good thing, then.”

“Oh, I have no doubt, Your Majesty.” Cullen heard Chancellor Loveall’s knowing smile and rolled his eyes.

“What do you know?” Alistair asked, suddenly suspicious. “Have you met them? Everyone’s been so secretive about this whole thing. Are they a man or woman? Bigger than a breadbox? Human, elf, dwarf, qunari? Do they, Maker forbid, have a _name_?”

“I did not ask, Your Majesty, though perhaps you can. He is standing just outside, if you’re ready to receive him.”

“Maker’s breath, woman! Lead with that next time!”

Cullen chuckled softly at the scrambling he heard on the other side of the door.

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” Chancellor Loveall said, tone indicating she was anything but.

“I swear, you all do this on purpose to make me look a fool,” Alistair grumbled.

“I’m not so sure we can be blamed for that, Your Majesty.”

“You know, I could have you beheaded.”

Chancellor Loveall laughed. “On what charges?”

“Annoying the king!”

“If that were a crime, you’d have no more subjects over which to rule.”

Alistair sighed. “Go out there, count to ten, and then let him in.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Chancellor Loveall opened the door further, waved Cullen in without counting, and left, closing the door loudly behind her.

* * *

Cullen’s stomach fluttered as he watched Alistair, back to him, grumble to himself.

“Ridiculous …” Alistair murmured, turning forward, but with his head down, as he dug for something in a drawer of his overlarge desk. “Stupid secrecy …” He placed a bottle of some sort of alcohol on the desk and dug for something else. “Always caught off guard —”

Alistair raised his head and froze, dropping the two glasses he’d been holding as he saw Cullen. At least one of them shattered.

“Maker’s breath,” Alistair breathed. “I knew it.” He walked around the desk, glass crunching beneath his boot, and made a beeline for Cullen. “Well, I didn’t know it, but I hoped, since Josephine said she’d sent a Fereldan who everyone _conspicuously_ didn’t name, but your letters took the right amount of too long, and you sounded so disappointed you had to stay at Skyhold and I knew you’d never lie to me, but then I realized that if you did intend to surprise me, this sort of elaborate, organized ruse is exactly the way you’d do it, and I tried not to hope so I wouldn’t be disappointed, but I couldn’t help it because it’s been _so long_ and — I’m sorry, I’m babbling.”

He stood right in front of Cullen now, but Cullen couldn’t speak a word.

“What’s wrong?” Alistair frowned. “I know I’m the talkative one, but usually you tell me to shut up by kissing me, and now you seem …” He reached out and placed a hand on Cullen’s cheek, moving his thumb back and forth. “Cullen?”

Cullen returned the gesture, but for an entirely different reason.

Because in their year-long separation, Alistair had let his facial hair grow out and now sported a short, neatly trimmed, just barely silver-streaked, auburn _beard_.

Cullen brushed it with his fingers only to realize he still wore his gloves. He ripped them off and returned his hand to Alistair’s cheek.

“What … ?” he whispered.

“Oh, right.” Alistair chuckled awkwardly. “I, uh, got tired of shaving and let it grow out, and then my advisers and several nobles mentioned it looked more _regal_ , so I kept it. Uh …” He swallowed as Cullen continued to run his fingertips through the soft hair. “What — what do you think? Do you, uh … like it?”

Cullen ran his fingers up Alistair’s cheek and into his hair, which Alistair had also let grow out to around his shoulders.

Cullen felt a shiver run through Alistair, whose eyes fluttered closed as he let his forehead rest gently against Cullen’s.

Never one to pass up an opportunity, particularly one as blatant as this, Cullen pressed his lips to Alistair’s and tasted his love for the first time in over a year.

Alistair moaned and thrust his hands into Cullen’s hair, and then Cullen lost track of time and space and everything that wasn’t Alistair while they became reacquainted. The year they spent apart seemed both infinite and infinitely short, as the kiss was somehow utterly familiar and yet simultaneously completely new.

When they finally came up for air, Cullen opened his eyes — when had he closed them, he wondered — to find Alistair’s beautiful grin and twinkling gaze waiting for him.

“So that's a ‘yes’ on the beard, then? You like it?”

Cullen hummed thoughtfully. “It’s not what I would choose for myself,” he said, running his fingers through the rather distinguished beard once again. “And I admit I’ll miss your boyish grin …”

Alistair frowned and opened his mouth to speak.

Before he could, Cullen leaned in and rubbed his own freshly shaved cheek against the soft hair on Alistair’s, and whispered into his ear, “But yes, I rather think I do.”

And those were the last words spoken between them until Chancellor Loveall knocked on the door to the king’s bedroom the following morning.

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic, I imagine Alistair looking like his concept art, in which he looks, as my husband said, "Regal as fuck." I have to agree.  
>   
> [](https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipOTdk8MWLeLGmyRCkQMABCTqy1fZ3uwVfdVG-oD037PU1DmoLq2D9xP2W5yLyulsQ?key=RTg1Y3UxLVZkTzFVbU5vdElwZEZNVmdYSmZYdFNn&source=ctrlq.org)


End file.
